About

Friday, December 29, 2017

How do I say this? “I don’t really want to say this.”
Writing a summary is the most difficult part of the job, and even the greatest
writers complain that it’s not the same as writing a novel well. I don’t want
to write this because I don’t think I can be funny about it, I don’t want to
say this because I don’t want to embarrass anyone, I don’t want to say this
because I don’t want to look like an asshat. But when I saw the cover to this
book, I was immediately excited. I felt drawn in, I thought it was my thing,
and I considered that maybe I could put aside the myriad of stories on my list
to-be-read for something that might be exactly the kind of story I’ve been
looking for.

I had high hopes because the cover, like all good covers,
gave me an indication of tone, genre, and dedication that made me confident in
the author. It made me feel.

Then I read the summary:

Title of Book, Book One of
space fantasy series, Title of Series,
is classic fantasy for the current YA generation ... romantic, dramatic
adventure written in rich, lyrical prose ... and an inspired, refreshingly
original romp through boundless imagination!

This 560-page novel also comes with an
additional 70 pages of bonus content including a 50-page art gallery. All
fantasy enthusiasts are asked to prepare themselves for take off on the next
pop culture paradigm shift after Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games!

Inspired by Caribbean cultures and landscapes, Title of Book is the debut novel of
Barbadian author Author’s Name,
woven from a deep magickal sensibility, a love of fantasy literature and
folklore, and a romance with words and the worlds they can craft.

To clarify, I don’t think
the summary is horrific. The problem isn’t my aghast at any poor writing, but
that it doesn’t do anything it is supposed to do. It, for me, makes all the
ineffective choices you can when writing a pitch.

For one
thing, it begins meta.

Instead of diving us right
into the plot or character, it discusses what the book “is.” It’s not an
active, intellectually or emotionally charged sentence. It lacks feeling, and
just begins with description. While I don’t believe “is” is a bad word to use
in general, it makes for an unexciting start, which when you only have a few
sentences can be a major waste of time.

“Generic is
a book about two loves lost from each other.” “John is a high powered lawyer.” “This
short story was written for the Inky Men of Utah writers’ group…”

This is one of those
places that considering a strong verb might be useful. I won’t say “is” is
always a poor choice, but it’s something to at least consider carefully because,
as the very first sentence a reader will see, writing something emotionally
charged rather than informative is often the better way to go.

Also, the meta-thinking—reminding us that it is a
book—isn’t what either the authors or the readers want. The audience needs to be immersed from moment one,
forgetting as soon as possible that these people aren’t really real. Yes, it’s
just a summary, and no one gets immersed by summation, but if you can humanize
your characters, you should do it as soon as you can. Spending all of this time to remind us the name of the book (which, do
readers really care?) and the name of the series is taking the chance that your
potential buyers will quit before they even got to the actual summary.

But because I was really interested, I did keep going, hoping to find the plot
soon to see if I really did want to read it or not.

She tells
us what we’re supposed to think.

She made the genre clear
at least. Her repetition of “fantasy” in the first few sentences didn’t seem
very thought out, but that doesn’t bother me on a whole, not until after I
realized she had spent all this time being extremely specific about the genre
but never the actual book. She made it very evident what kind of story it would
be, at least, with “classic fantasy” featuring romance and adventure (all of
which intrigued me). Her insistence,
however, that her prose was lyrical made me skeptical. I often advocate for
poetry in fiction, and like a good turn-a-phrase and seeing authors attempt for
unique voices. I hate how we push simplicity, especially in young adult
fiction. But, when someone actually
starts writing out qualities of their book, it suggests more like that’s what
they want it to be like and might
very well mean that it’s just a series of words that are trying too hard to be
clever or beautiful.

With a few exceptions,
like “funny,” adjectives that sound like they belong better in a review than a
summary turn me off. When synopsis suggest how amazing or brilliant the book
is, I’m not likely to take that seriously. Show
me the interesting parts, don’t expect me to trust they exist just because you
said so.

While I am interested in
the page count, the size being very important in my consideration, when she goes off into the “extras” before
telling me anything about the story, I feel like she’s trying to entice me with
gimmicks instead of emotion. If it’s a book I already know and love, hell
yes I want the extras. I’ll sit there and read every boring blog from an
author, look through every photo on their Instagram, hoping to get just a
little more of the feeling their stories gave me. But when I don’t know you…

‘Comps’ work
better through examples.

Her comparison to the Hunger Games might have meant more if,
instead of suggesting it would be a big phenomenon like that, explained how it was similar. Are characters the
same? Setting? The tension? The plot? Just because I like Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn’t mean I’ll like every book on
vampires, but I might like the contemporary fiction with sarcastic characters. She
said “paradigm shift” so I’m not sure if that really means any lovers of Hunger Games will like it.

I want to
know what it’s about.

Then, still having as of
yet to actually summarize anything about what happens, she discusses herself.
Not necessarily a bad move, but use the space for what is for. It’s organized
that way for ease. You have an author’s bio on Amazon. Save your word count for
what’s important; why do I want to read your book?

I don’t know. I have no
reason to. I don’t even know what the
character’s names are, for hellsake. I know it’s classic fantasy, but does
that mean Tolkien? Narnia? The Ocean at the End of the Lane?A Midsummer Night’s Dream? I mean, I’d
assume that it’s elves and dwarves in medieval-based England, but that’s just
from what I believe “classic” fantasy would be, I don’t actually have any
reason to think you and I are on the same page.

Price.

The book was thirteen
dollars for an ebook. I believe that writers can charge whatever they want for
their stories, and sometimes making your price more akin to traditional
publishing and not one dollar can encourage readers to take you more seriously.
But did she really think I was going to take a chance on a story that was that
much money that I have no idea what it’s about?

Now, I know
what you’re thinking. You don’t want to give away the plot because then no one
will be interested.

And that is why I have to say this.

It does not matter if they don’t know what happens
when they don’t care what happens.

Tell us what your book is
about. Yes, we want to be surprised, yes, if I knew I wanted to read your book, I wouldn’t want to know anything
at all. But when it’s about making people care—and it is—it’s better to be
predictable than to be too vague. Predictable stories sell all of the time. You
know what’s going to happen, you know when in the plot it will happen, and you
still invest. Why? Because we don’t just read for secrets and the unexpected.
Nothing is better than to be delightfully surprised, tension is doubt as to
outcome, and great manuscripts have twist endings, but the worst books are
those that failed those things. Our most
beloved stories don’t have to be original, they have fantastic
characterization, perspectives, and epic settings. They have great stakes,
high highs and low lows. You gain intellectual and emotional change. Most of
these things, of course, are enhanced by not giving too much away. But your
readers have to know something to
care. Let’s face it, if they already knew they wanted to read it and didn’t
want anything given away, they wouldn’t be looking at the summary in the first
place.

So I’m not saying not to
keep things under the vest. But authors must realize that most books sell
because of the events inside them, because of the characters, because of the
details of the settings. The story sells the story. Mystery only enhances it.

When writing a summary, don’t write a review. Don’t talk about how great it is or what it is,
inform the audience of what happens or might happen, who the characters are,
where they are, what humor or tension they can expect. Give us an idea of the
protagonist, the place, the tone of voice, and make sure that if you are going
to keep secrets, the audience even knows the secret exists. We can’t obsess
over who the murderer is when we don’t even know a killing has transpired.

The balance of mystery and
information in a summary is the keystone to its hook, we all know this. But, if
you can’t decide, keep in mind that the events of your story shouldn’t be
satisfied by just a summation.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Monday, December 25, 2017

In January 2017, I had just moved to NYC a few months prior, and had really just begun to settle in to my new apartment. I didn't have a job yet, wasn't entirely over the feelings of failure and worthlessness after my last relationship, and hadn't really written much of anything in the last year or so while working tirelessly to save up for the move, being incredibly stressed about several big life changes, and not really being close to where I wanted at the age 27.

In the months to come, I found a rhythm. I loved New York for its no-nonsense attitude, the people there were passionate and easy to talk to. There were a few unpleasant moments with the expected individuals, but overall, for a time, I thought that it might be a good place for me. It was exciting with high energy and many options when it came to who you talked to.

It wasn't until I had an annoying day at work sometime in may where I facetiously joked to myself, "I'm gonna quit!" that I realized my desire to return home.

My roommate, an older woman who had a near panic attack when I moved the mini fridge left in my room a foot to the right, always made me feel like a guest. I realize she was checking my light bulbs when I was gone, as well as just poking around to make sure things were the way she wanted them. I left the door open while away, and the tiny closet-sized room didn't leave much to hide, so the invasiveness wasn't necessary. At the moment I began to want the freedom of Wyoming, I started to realize how much I walked on eggshells when she was around, flinching every time she went into the bathroom in case I didn't clean out the hairs in the tub well enough.

I hated not having a car. I hated being dependent on the subway system. I had gone there to have things accessible to me - so I could just run out and grab something in the middle of a project. But things were always far, regardless of how few blocks they were, and leaving would take hours of my day for one item. If I could even find it. And many things New Yorkers just ordered online; you couldn't find them in stores.

I realized, being able to successfully live in one of the most expensive cities in the world on a part-time job at minimum wage, I could easily put myself up back in Wyoming, live with a more flexible budget and really try to give myself time for my real work.

I returned home to feel a huge wash of relief on me. I took my old job back at the airport, making a good amount of money and my bosses feeling very flexible in when I work, giving me room to travel and set things up the next year.

Writing has gone alright this year, but it could be better. I've long gotten out of the habit, and I feel some desire had left me for a time. Submitting to agents can feel futile. For many, it took up to nine months to get back to me, and prior I felt like I had been sending it out to the void, my work being sucked up into a black hole to be impacted into nothing. It's sort of like playing a difficult video game in which after struggling through, you realize you messed up way back in the beginning and have to start over. Or worse, it's not a screw up, just bad luck. It's out of your control. And still, go through all the motions again with no more guarantee of results. Beta-readers and critique partners weren't excited about what I was doing, and the advice could be convoluted, painful, and inaccurately biased.

The last few months, after a pretty good year, I've slipped with the comic, the Stories of the Wyrd, publishing submissions... Well, a lot of things. With sickness, travel, work, the theatre, I feel the need to reorganize my priorities because I gave up on some long term projects for a while.

Good news is that I did do most of last year's resolutions. I traveled to Ireland, did a trip across America visiting Niagra Falls and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I went to Seattle to see a friend, and have plans to go to Iceland this April. I didn't submit to as many agents as I wanted, but I did get my book out there more than I have before. I'm not sure I read 12 novels this year, but I did read a lot, including several books 800-1,400 pages. I've toyed with my website, which I assume will always be ongoing, but it is different and hopefully more accessible than it was before. And lastly, I very much did complete the three-year-old to-do list that I'd been working on for ages.

After some hiccups of 2015 and '16, 2017 really encouraged me to go after what I wanted, and therefore helped me figure out what it was I didn't want. My view of my future has changed a lot in the last couple of years, but admitting to myself what really mattered - free time to create - helped me make better choices for myself, and not worry so much about my credibility. A stressor that was never going to be completely solved.

Have a Merry Christmas and happy holidays everybody. The next year is coming, and we'll make it a bash!

-Cheers, Charley

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Friday, December 22, 2017

There is something in the air that encourages humility
and insecurity. I’m going to assume it has something to do with the holidays,
though it’s more likely it’s just coincidence. Either way, I have been exposed
to more people’s self-deprecation than I have in a while, and it made me
analyze the way I think of them.

They posted their poetry. “It’s not very good, I know,
but it remains true.”

I wasn’t thinking it was bad… until you said that.

They talk about their books. “I am so embarrassed about
my book I’ve published, but you can buy it here.”

Probably not going to happen now.

They admit their fears and poor sales in their statuses.
“TITLE isn’t selling well and people are lying to me about reading it!”

They post the negative reviews they receive, and though
they rarely have that bad of reactions, they clearly care.

Are these bad things? Isn’t being vulnerable what
connects us together? Isn’t being humble good and arrogant bad?

Do I mean to suggest that you shouldn’t talk about your
failings to your public? Did I make a mistake in doing so myself?

Well, possibly, but my point isn’t so much as to not do
it. It isn’t about to do it either. It is about the complexities of connecting
with your audience, being honest with them and yourself, and exposing the
difficulties of being a writer while at the same time “faking it until you make
it.” In essence, when do you keep your problems to yourself? Because no matter
how human you are, when I get the vibe you don’t like your writing, it strongly
influences not only my willingness to take a chance on it, it makes me judge
your work more harshly. But being human is also what makes people interested in
what you have to say.

I obviously can’t say what is right for you, and I have
no intention on doing so, especially because I am still struggling to determine
what is just a discussion on the trials of writing and what looks petty for
myself. I wrote about my worst book ever because I was surprised by its
existence. It had returned me to problems I had long solved, ones that I hadn’t
had to deal with in a while. It reminded me the possible outcomes of doing
things like not outlining. I shared the experience out of wanting to tell my
readers what I was working on, what I was going through. But what does it say
to an eye that doesn’t know me?

Sometime back there was a young writer who posted a
comment about why you should respond
to reviews, despite that everyone had told him otherwise. He suggested that it
made him seem “cool and professional,” and posted the comment for people to
read and tell him their opinions. I lurked instead of submitting my opinion,
knowing he really didn’t want to hear criticism on criticism, but he confirmed
for me my belief that replying to a review online will never end well.

The criticism had several points, but mostly complained
about the self-published writer’s arrogance. In his response, he thanked her
for her remarks and told her that he would use her criticism to improve on his
writing in the future.

His opinion that this made him look good actually didn’t.
While I would have been somewhat skeptical of the review, his suggestion that
he would do something about it said to me that he agreed with her. If, say, I
had read his book and didn’t find it to be arrogant, I would be irritated. I’ve
seen authors pander to their naysayers and throw their fans under the bus, and
it not only comes off as insecurity, but ruins the storyline for those who
already love it. Too many romance writers will take their charming jackass and
magically change his personality or tell us that it was all an act all in hopes
to satisfy those who found him unlikable and sexist. But those already burned
aren’t placated, and those of us who enjoyed in the first place are now
annoyed, our main interest in the book altered irrevocably.

His speedy agreement to improve his writing made me
question his past desire to do so. Either it was superficially pandering, a
promise he never intended on fulfilling which is disrespectful, or he did agree
to her assessment, but why so quickly? His desire to respond to the review
suggests a lack of experience in receiving criticism—he was obviously hurt and
wanted the catharsis of replying. There was no other reason to do it. Most
people will never know if you respond or not, and the honest truth is they
don’t care. Unless they want to fight you, it’s not like they feel accomplished
or grateful for your “Thank yous.” In fact, they don’t want to know that you’re
lurking around reading everything. Don’t you have anything better to do?

If he had received criticism prior, they’d either talked
about his arrogance, or they didn’t. If he had already been told he was
arrogant, why didn’t he change it before? What was so special about this
woman’s criticism that made him convinced now? It was unlikely that she had
said something—by her criticism and his comment—that had finally broken the
wall and forced him to fix it, which suggests the ‘he’s lying’ theory, or that
he hasn’t been told any of this
before. If he had gotten a lot of feedback and this was new, then I can’t
imagine he’d take it so easily. When you’ve been critiqued a whole slew of
times and someone comes up with something out of left field, it takes much
longer to adjust to it. It is more likely that he hadn’t received much feedback
on his work at all, and so his comments suggest, at best, inexperience over
confidence.

When an author says that their writing is bad, I tend to
take them at face value and assume it is. And that’s the best case scenario.
It’s worse if I think you’re lying to seem humble or even if you just don’t
have the taste to realize how not bad it is—which doesn’t bode well for the
quality of your book in the end. How can you write well when you can’t tell
what good writing is?

Of course we all have our biases against our own work,
and it’s not uncommon for us to hate something simply because we made it. But
while I don’t expect an author to always like what he’s done and sometimes we
need to give our work to others before we can see the merit, it’s far more
important for me as a reader to trust the writer knows what he’s doing; if he
doesn’t think he does, why would I?

Be careful about announcing your insecurities publicly,
whether that be to fans or critique partners. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
If you tell me that your book isn’t selling well, I’m not going to buy it, even
though I know damn well that the reasons probably have less to do with quality
and more to do with poor marketing. Yet I have so many options to read from,
the chance that it is a good book with bad word-of-mouth isn’t high enough to
make it worthwhile.

I have caught myself reading a poem or a piece of fiction
online with no real opinion on it to only assume that it really is bad because
the writer ended it by saying so. It also makes me question why they decided to
share something with me that they didn’t think was to high standards.

When you write, you will be judged, but you will be far
better to let them to their own devices than attempt to put your opinion in,
especially if your opinion isn’t doing you any favors.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Monday, December 18, 2017

Sometime back I
read a blog post by an indie author complaining about the bigotry of
traditional publishers against the novella. He began by stating, “Size doesn’t
matter, and if you think it does, then this article isn’t for you.”

So… who’s it for then? Those who already agree with
you?

It wasn’t a
well-written complaint. Some of his points made sense, but he made claims that
seemed naïve—“I’ve never met a person who didn’t like novellas!”—and
contradictory—“People don’t pick books by size. I personally like stories that
only take me an hour to read.”

Rants aren’t as bad
as we make them. Anger can discredit someone, easily making you appear
emotional and foolishly arrogant, but they can also be fun, exciting, and
empowering. There’s nothing wrong with a well worded rant, and it can even be
sexy, charismatic. But you should be aware if you’re trying to make the choir
laugh, trying to persuade a hostile audience, or just give information to the overwhelmed.
How you broach that same topic will be different, as will your gauge of
success.

Most blogs by new
authors ignore who their audience is likely to be; they write for the
impressionable minds of those new and eager to learn when, in most cases, their
readers are the intermediate or even experienced folks who enjoy discussing
writing and dig past On Writing and The Elements of Style to find the
opinions of those less mainstream.

Who are you writing for? Because arguing with the
choir and making off putting jokes at the expense your readers are easy
mistakes to avoid if you simply consider who’s reading and your intent in
posting.

It tells you how to talk to people.

There’s quite a
few—at least half—of amateurs (and experts) who don’t like to be told what to
do. Bossing them around with “Don’t do this,” and “Please don’t do that,” are
likely to alienate them. I also think we have an obligation to check our work
when advising people new to the business as well. I find most commonly repeated
advice problematic and counterproductive; if your dialogue is terrible,
punctuation and dialogue tags are the last thing you should be thinking about.

While offering
advice, it’s useful to consider who you’re speaking to. There are some people, like me, who will take even small and seemingly
superficial complaints seriously as long as they feel genuine, but get
resistant at condescension and bossiness. If you seem like you don’t
realize lots of people have a different opinion than you then you’ve lost a
little bit of credibility with me. Partially out of practicality because it’s
not uncommon that my feedbackers all drastically disagree with each other, and
the people who believe their opinion is everyone’s are worse at showing me
their perspective, more likely to take offense at questions.

But there are others who consider kindness, diplomacy,
and respect as an act of weakness or submission, and advice without aggression
and assertiveness will also lose credibility for them. Everyone’s filters for truth is different, but
critiques always go better if you attempt to be persuasive and consider the
human in front of you.

Knowing your
audience is the same thing, except that it involves the many instead of the
one. When I tell people to consider who they’re writing for, many of them balk
pretty aggressively. At first I didn’t understand why until I realized that
“know your audience” reads to some as “restrict yourself to a certain
demographic for business purposes.”

Having a certain audience in mind doesn’t necessarily mean pandering to
them, just understanding them.

Having a clear idea
of the kind of the person reading just factors in how you tackle information. If
you’re dealing with a fresh-minded writer with no prior experience in the
writing world, how you advise them to restrict their adverbs is going to be
different than when dealing with someone who has already heard it and already
has a stubborn opinion. One will be more explanatory than argumentative, (Here’s
the benefits) the other will be more personal than informative (Here’s
situations it has worked for me).

You can say it’s
not your job to be convincing, you just are there to deliver the information
and if they want to be an asshat about it, that’s their own ambition, but I
perceive that as a lazy and counterproductive stance to have. If you honestly want to help them and all
it takes is a brief reflection on how you speak to them, what’s the downside?
If the blogger doesn’t want to help them, then it seems like they’re just
trying to get off on a power trip.

Plus there’s
selfish motives to work on your persuasion.
Just by stepping back and putting yourself in your readers’ shoes, you’ll find
that making successful decisions is easier and you will gain more respect and
authority from your peers.

Yes, you can get yourself pigeonholed.

Sometimes your
audience is restrictive. If you start
to be successful as a science-fiction writer, you might find that your loyal
fans throw a hissy fit at your new historical romance. When you know you’re
going to do something that your audience doesn’t like, should you not do it?

Unfortunately,
there is no right answer. Sometimes you should do what you want despite the
backlash. Sometimes you shouldn’t. Sometimes you can find a way to have your
cake and eat it too. But it’s useful to
not blind yourself to your audience’s potential reaction merely because you
don’t want to hear it or don’t agree with it. Even if you do decide to ignore
their wishes, you’ll be prepared for the reaction and handle it better.

Knowing your
audience is understanding that no book has ever been recognized as genius by
everyone. Shakespeare, James Joyce, Hemmingway, Charles Dickens, Kerouac, and
even J.K. Rowling all have their haters. It’s understanding that writing well
isn’t binary. It’s understanding that the obvious complaint is not always the
issue, and finding the subtle reasons something doesn’t work requires a
consistent measuring stick.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Friday, December 15, 2017

It’s the worst lie anyone can tell you. Not because they
don’t believe it, and not because it’s malicious, but because they do believe it and expect you to trust
them without any action backing them up.

This excuse the most common lie I hear working in a
collaborative setting. It’s the most common betrayal my friends and coworkers
and peers and even those I’ve hired tell me. They always have their reasons it
will be different, and it never is.

If you’re not working hard because it’s not an “important
project,” you won’t start working hard just because it is.

If you think it’s okay to blow someone off because
“you’re not getting paid,” you won’t start being responsible even when you do.

If you don’t enjoy doing it because you “don’t like the
project,” you’re not going to start enjoying it just because the project has
changed.

They sound like viable excuses, and it’s easy to be
fooled into being understanding or empathetic. But the real difference between now and “when” is that “when” isn’t now,
it doesn’t have to start today, you don’t have to do the work immediately. You
can wait until it’s important.

But you’ll find that even as these things change, even as
you get paid more or the project becomes yours that laziness doesn’t go away.
You’ve practiced for all of these years being unaccountable, you’re not even
going to understand the subtle habits it takes to be successfully responsible.
And there’s a decent chance that you will never get paid more or given more
control because no one thinks you’re competent.

You claim, “That’s
not fair. They haven’t given me a chance!”

I know how it feels. In fact, I’ve been there. Back when
I first graduated college, a place that rewarded solely good first impressions,
redemption never a possibility, I felt they weren’t giving me a chance to
shine, to show what I really could do. As I turned to ‘more important’
projects, I struggled to be competent in areas I previously eschewed as
irrelevant: professionalism, attention to details, showmanship. I’d always thought it would be easy to clean
something well or have good handwriting—areas that seemed so simple if I just
took the time—and it turned out that there was a certain amount of undefinable skill
that I’d never really practiced and couldn’t even fathom why I wasn’t
successfully achieving it.

Don’t
start a path expecting to easily escape when it gets rough.

I watched someone
grow addicted to cocaine. At first he said, “I’m not buying it. If I ever
buy it, then you know I’m in trouble.”

Then he started buying it.

“Well, I can’t just mooch off of people. But I’m not
carrying any of it.”

Then he started carrying it.

“Just in my car. It’s not like I’m bringing inside the
house.”

“It’s not like I’m stealing to get it.”

“At least I’m not selling it.”

It’ll be different when… I know I’ll be addicted when…

Your
reputation follows you.

In my college there was a tech major who I asked if he
wanted to help produce some of the plays I was working on. He pushed it back and pushed it back until he finally left me in the
lurch, which was ridiculous because not only did I give him creative freedom, I
didn’t actually require much from him. I would have been happy with the bare
minimum or anything he was inspired to do.

So when, one day, I was working at a theatre in which the
director needed a tech director for a production, and he asked me what I
thought of the guy, I told him the truth, “He’s good, but flaky. If I were you,
I’d give him one assignment early on and if he blows you off, get someone
else.”

So the director
followed my instructions, the guy did blow him off, and he was fired. He
never even got the second chance. Maybe he would have had he not already done
the same thing to me, and I believe that he might have come through at the end.
But his behavior was stressful and unprofessional and he wasn’t putting his
best foot forward.

Then the theatre in which we worked decided to hire a
tech director full time. My fellow student had submitted a resume. The Artistic
Director asked my past director, knowing they had worked together, about my
fellow student, and the director said, “I don’t know. He’s really flaky.”

Prior to that they
had been seriously considering him for the job. He never got an interview.

Fool
me once…

My director on another play wanted to hire his friend, a
musician, to be a part of the show we were producing. However, after the script
had been written with spots for his music in place, the friend decided it was
“too far of a drive.”

We got another one of the director’s friends. We asked
him for a self-assigned deadline. He missed it, and claimed it was written, he
just didn’t have the gas money. Give him another week. Then he said he needed
to meet the cast. Then he said that he just couldn’t get the tune right. I told
the director to fire his friend. He told him we were going to cut the music all
together. I went out and found someone else, prefacing my request by saying,
“You can tell a fake musician because they don’t meet deadlines.”

This was a paying gig.

Later on, Blow-Off #2 called and asked the director to
work with him again. They did, and it went as you would expect. Upon another
one of my productions, he called again and said, “Remember me? I wrote music
for your play!”

“Well, I remember you not writing music for my play…”

Apparently he still badgers the director when they’re
going to work together again.

Laziness
is a trait, not a reaction.

I had a stage manager with a bad habit of being lazy. She
stage managed as a volunteer and in many cases I just needed a button pusher
and did most of her “job” myself. It didn’t bother me in itself, but I did make
jokes. She always grinned and said, “It’ll be different when I’m getting paid.”

Then she got hired for another company.

“It will be different when I’m getting paid a decent wage.”

“I’ve seen you at your day job, my dear.”

Cheatees
never prosper.

A friend of mine was cheated on. It didn’t count, of course, because they weren’t officially in a
relationship.Then it didn’t count
because they were on a break. It wasn’t cheating because it’s only online. He
didn’t actually have full-blown sex with her. Finally, she ended it “once
and for all.” When he begged her to come back months later, she told him that
she would on a trial basis. He told her he loved her, he wanted to marry her,
why didn’t she trust him? Didn’t she get he had changed and it was all in the
past?

He left her for another woman. Because “she didn’t trust
him.”

Mastery
is in the details, and details are hard to master.

In high school, I created what I wanted to create. I
didn’t care about standards or professionalism, and what came of it were
strange and aesthetically intriguing ideas that were half assed and hastily
slapped together. I didn’t edit my essays. I didn’t bother to follow the
formulas. I never thought anything was important enough to really make “good,”
it was always “good enough.”

And then, when I did want to make something wonderful, when I wanted to win a
contest more than anything, when I wanted to astound people with my art and
create a finished, polished product, I didn’t know how to do it. No matter how
hard I tried, I didn’t even really understand what professional was.

Maya Angelo says
when someone shows you who they truly are, believe them.

Judge people by their actions, not their promises, and
when someone claims “It’ll be different when,” don’t believe them.

If the pay is not enough to do your best, don’t agree to
the job. If the project is beneath you, tell them to find someone else. If
you’re not interested or you don’t have the time or you have certain
stipulations to your contract, make it clear in the very beginning. Do not wait
until tomorrow to do your best, and do not break promises. If you can’t stand
by your word, it doesn’t matter what the situation is, people can’t trust you.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Monday, December 11, 2017

Like most flaws
and bad experiences, there are benefits to the negatives. College was the worst
time of my life, but it taught me great strategies in dealing with passive-aggression
and social politics. My hypersensitivity makes me emotional, but have an
extremely high interpersonal intelligence. My fear makes exhausts and limits
me, but it forces me to learn and understand patterns quickly.

Patient authors
are likely to never publish at all. I personally have been writing for 15 years
now and am actively submitting a manuscript to agents for the first time this
year. In my writers groups, the ones who have map out a reasonable allotted set
of months to finish never do. The ones who want to publish, “This year,” are
those who get it done.

Impatience is
the strongest motivator in finishing. It’ll inspire the writers to take risks,
not over think things, and get their work out there. Actually submitting is the
name of the game, and few people are ever going to be certain if their work
really is ready.

So why wait to publish?

The criticisms
of impatient authors are not without merit. Most self-published books have
quality errors due to haste; not just typos, but rushed pacing, no real ending,
non-atmospheric summation, and just sound
like the writer was trying to get something out as fast as humanly possible.
It’s not just the prolific authors who have a fanbase to appease—who often
learn how to write quickly through practice—but many beginning writers
intentionally and arbitrarily decide to write a low wordcount from the jump
because it seems less daunting.

I don’t agree
that the worst thing a writer can do is publish before she’s ready. I believe
it is far, far worse to hang onto something out of fear. Never submit something
you know is half-assed, but
persistence and putting yourself out there are the foundations to success in
any situation. In some cases, it’s better to take a chance and get rejected
than not.

But, that being
said, there are definitely ramifications to publishing far too soon, and the
biggest one is when contracts are actually involved: in other words, the scam.

Some weeks ago,
a woman excitedly posted a Facebook status about her book being picked up.
Immediately, red flags were sprung. Something about the way she said it, “A
publisher has picked up my book for their self-publishing package!”

“Picked up…
self-publishing package”?

That’s not how
self-publishing works.

I went to their
website—a Facebook page, their website was a broken link—and it became
immediately obvious that this was not a good deal. A scam? Maybe not, in that I
believe scams have to be intentionally malicious. It seemed more like a small
start-up of people who probably didn’t want to work with big publishers and
thought they could do it themselves without really understanding how the
process works.

But even if it wasn’t about stealing money, it was not
a good deal by any stretch of the imagination. No ability to buy books online,
cost of books was much greater than market value, authors paid for editing and
brought in their own covers. They were looking for editors on Facebook. The one
book they were promoting’s deadline was being pushed back for “editing
reasons.”

In truth, anyone
who calls themselves a “Hybrid Publisher” is offering a bad deal; the hybrid is
always the worst of both worlds for the writer. The writer pays while losing
creative control, and as of yet, no hybrid publisher has a good enough
reputation to ease writers into getting in bookstores. Unless they can offer
buy-back, they have a proven record of quality control, and they can offer the books at competitive prices, the
self-publisher will have the same amount of difficulty getting her books in on
her own.

I nervously
messaged the author my concerns, not sure I was overstepping my boundaries. She
was grateful for the heads up and, luckily, we parted ways on good terms.

Not long after,
I came across a discussion on Inkitt.com. Two tech-based individuals decided to
change the ways of publishing by creating an algorithm and a contest in order
to maximize writers’ chances of success without having to deal with
“gatekeepers.” There was a great deal of controversy because it involved
putting your book up online, which loses you First English Language Rights,
because they didn’t seem to be having a great deal of success getting their
books out there, and because they just didn’t seem to know how the publishing
process worked period.

But! One of
their writers, Erin Swan, has been picked up by Tor, a publisher of some of the
best speculative fiction writers in North America.

Problem is, publishing is evolving, and it’s possible
that a company that doesn’t work like the others is really being innovative and
might be the best for you. I remember
some years ago being at a writers conference that disparaged self-publishing
which then embraced it the following summer. I don’t particularly recommend
Inkitt for a myriad of reasons, but is it a scam?

Which brings me
to yesterday. A young woman posted an (almost illegible) rant about a
publishing company taking her for a ride. No contact, leaving her in the dark,
making her pay for editing and cover art, trading her editors, and now
threatening to sue her over 200 dollars she owes them.

I’ve previously
worked as a paralegal; my boss, a humanitarian and court-appointed criminal
lawyer, charged the court 180 dollars AN HOUR. When she took on cases that
weren’t being paid for by the government? More like 600. Here we had three
young English majors in charge of a “publishing company” threatening to bring
the author to court despite multiple breaches in contract by subverting
deadlines over 200 dollars.

I’m normally not
the type to get annoyed at the victim, but I was astounded with her naivety.

“It looked like
a contract you would get from a lawyer too!” she insisted when I suggested that
maybe their threats weren’t anything more than idle.

Don’t ever sign
something if you don’t understand it.

The author had
no idea what the job of the publishing house was supposed to be. She had no
idea she would be charged over a thousand dollars when signing, and she had no
idea that wasn’t typical.

Going to their
website, there were red flags everywhere. Typos and spelling errors, a lack of
focus in what they actually did, no online store, poorly crafted covers, only
three books in their portfolio.

Sometimes it’s
hard to know what you’re looking for. If you don’t have a strong understanding
of proper syntax and punctuation, it’s difficult to recognize that someone else
doesn’t either. If you don’t know much about how books reach stores, you don’t
know when you’re being taken for a ride or if it’s pretty standard.

So learn. Do
your research. Understand the difference
between self-publishing, traditional publishing, vanity presses, and scams.
Understand what a small press is expected to do for you. Understand what an
agent is. When interested in a publisher, find out more about it. Look at
their website, Google search them. Be clear on what the expectations are, what
it’s offering, and what you get out of the contract. Research options even if
you know you aren’t interested in them because it will help you protect
yourself in the long run.

If you have a
manuscript, and you’re ready to publish, here’s the things you should consider…

What
does an agent do, and do I need or want one?

Your experience
with each agent will vary, but typically your agent will make suggestions to
your manuscript for quality and marketability. After alterations have been
made, she will then query editors she thinks will be interested. If your book
is picked up, she will then negotiate the terms—her experience in the market
will make her better equipped to recognize good and bad deals—and read through
your contract to protect you.

Publishers who
are inundated with manuscript submissions will work solely through agents to
cut out some of the poor quality. Agents also, typically, have working
relationships with editors and understand their interests as well as have a
foot up due to familiarity.

If you are
self-publishing, there are some agents who will take on your work as an
advisory role and may be able to help with strategy and promotion, though that
is a fairly uncommon choice, especially because there’s not a lot of money for
the agent in that route, so it begs the question of their credibility.

If you are
interested in working with the big publishers and/or as a career writer (in
traditional avenues), working with an agent is just about a requirement and
will protect you in the long run.

If you are
self-publishing or interested in a small or localized printing—such as you have
a memoir that would only interest a small area—you may consider forgoing the
agent.

How much do agents charge?

An agent will
NEVER charge a fee or any upfront costs. Any attempt to do so is a scam.
Sometimes they may charge for reimbursement fees, but that will be spelled out
in a contract. They make a percentage of the author’s sales, usually 15%.
Publishers pay money to the agent, the agent deducts her commission and
forwards it to the writer.

How do I terminate a contract with an agent?

Both parties
should have the right to terminate a contract at any time. Prior to having made
a sale, this can be as simple as sending an email, however some contracts do
state the specific procedures. Some ask for a certain amount of notice or for
it to be a physical letter. Also, it’s important to remember it’s a small world
and not to burn bridges.

In the
publishing industry, a lot of contracts are book-by-book, and that’s a good
thing. Some are you work together until you decide otherwise, some have a time
limit. The only real one to be cautious about is if the agent wants first
rights to the next book, or all proceeding books.

What does a publisher do?

This also
varies, and has changed a great deal over the last decade.

Typically, a
publisher…

-Financially finances the
project, including editing, design, the
author, and some of the marketing. (Yes, the publisher pays you.)

-Has experienced, in-house
professionals who have been vetted through years of work.

-Has one or more editors work
with the author to improve and polish the manuscript.

-Creates a cover design, formats
the interior.

-Offers promotional strategy and
budgeting (this has shrunk in the recent years.)

-Pays printing costs.

-Has connections with
brick-and-mortar bookstores.

-Is able to buy back unsold
books from bookstores.

Some publishers
are ebook only nowadays. Some are start-ups and you’re taking a chance on their
reliability and experience. Some try for a “hybrid” of sorts, which is usually
in the worst interest of the writer.

The important
thing is to understand why you’re
pursuing a publisher in the first place, if they actually offer what you’re
seeking. Don’t let attention blind you just because you feel wanted. Is the
contract what you’re actually after?

Small
press or large press?

It’s not wise to
tell an agent you’ll only accept offers from the Big 5, and many people don’t
really have a choice; they get offers from who they get offers from. However,
it is still portion of the decision making, and even if you’ll gladly go with
whoever you can—or maybe especially—you should still understand the difference,
predominantly…

-Reputation.

-Promotion.

-Experience.

-Budget.

Truth is, some
small presses are nothing more than self-publishers promoting other’s books.
The important thing to realize is that small presses have limitations, but they
might still be valid options if they will do certain things for you. If you
know they produce quality work (by checking out what they’ve made), with good
editors and designers, it may be worth selling your first book through them for
both financial and reputable reasons. Or it might you might decide that having
a print version is most important to you and know to pass on the offer.

The problem with
small presses is telling which options are valid and which ones are scams. With
big publishers, you can check the name and history, know their works offhand,
and easily require standard expectations. When dealing with a small, it’s extra
important to do your homework. There are little things you can do like check
their website for ease of sales, prices of book should be on par with the
market, and real businesses will be filed with the government for tax purposes,
which is viewable online.

Is self-publishing actually
an option?

Self-publishing
is hard. I would argue harder than
the traditional route, but it also depends more on what you like to do and what
you’re good at.

But yes, it’s an
option. People have been successful with self-publishing, and a successful
self-published book can be later picked up by a traditional publisher. However,
if you are considering this route, you must understand why the self-publisher was successful, and what happens if your
book flops.

There are still
stigmas against badly selling indie books. It suggests some naivety and
arrogance, plus you’re showing the results of what your capabilities. Poorly
selling traditional books aren’t a good thing either, but it’s just not the
same kind of black mark.

If you’re
thinking about self-publishing, think long term. What are your goals, and how
are you planning on going about them?

Self-publishing
is not an easier way into traditional publishing. If your endgame is to be
picked up by a trad. publisher, the easiest method is through persistence,
education, and networking via the standard means.

The works that
do best in self-publishing tend to be more commercial.

You will make
more money off each sale, but you will have to sell your book for less. Even if
you sell on par with trads, their costs are lower.

You won’t get
(and don’t want) extra credit for being an indie. Your book still will need to
be at the same level of quality. Writing with poor execution because your story
“is good enough,” just ends up burning readers.

You can, theoretically, do it for free, but
you need to be diversely talented, sociable, and dedicated.

Don’t bank on
being the exception or the Chosen One Penguin is going to happen across and
mentor. Make a game plan.

Don’t just trust what you read on the internet.

That includes
this post. This is just an overview of what I have learned about the process
through years of discussion, workshops, conferences, and reading, but I’m no
expert. Things change, misinformation is past on, misunderstandings and Chinese
Whispers occur. People outright lie on the internet. Post a question about any
binary grammar rule on Facebook and see an acute split of opinions. One half
with be adamantly supporting the wrong answer.

Think about your
sources. Use your best knowledge and instinct. If something seems wrong, ask
more questions. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t let anyone bully you just
because you don’t inherently trust them. Be diplomatic, but cautious.

Find
people who have done what you want and learn about their history.

Think about
whose career you’d like to have. Next Stephen King? Read his autobiography, On Writing. Read his interviews. Read
articles about him.

Inspired by the
success of The Martian? Think about
how much he charged, how much he spent, how he promoted, and his history as a
writer.

Be careful about
hand picking and choosing tactics. Too many writers shoot themselves in the
foot by feeling entitled to certain luxuries without regard to context.

Before
you publish, know what it means.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...

Friday, December 8, 2017

The more I overhear writing criticism, the more I see problematic trends in how we respond to each other, how we answer questions, and why
advice is often unhelpful.

Let’s be honest, how many times have we read a “how-to”
guide online to have it do nothing for us? How often do we ask a writing
question while truly anticipating leaving with a good answer? With better
understanding? With an epiphany?

Part of it is the nature of the biz. It’s not uncommon
for us to just be asking, “Is there any way that this can be made easy?” And
the answer is no. Often we know that before we even speak.

But I also find
that we are more likely to dismiss the questions as impossible without really
analyzing them. Ask about writer’s block and you will be told it doesn’t
exist. As how to make money as a writer and you will be told you shouldn’t be
writing for that reason. Ask if you should do A or B and you will be told,
“It’s your book. Do whatever you want!”

A personal peeve of mine is when someone states, completely
rhetorically, “Why don’t you just…” as though whatever it is they are going to
say is easy and obvious. Actually, it combines all of my irritation in one. I
find criticism works best when the speaker acknowledges that there isn’t one
way to do something, just that this choice
will achieve… and then explains it.

Which is one of the reasons we don’t do that. We stick to vague and dismissive
comments like, “it’s unnecessary,” and “why don’t you just…” and “QUESTION
MARK?!” because the second we bring up reasons to make a change, it gives them
room to argue. But that’s the point. Enabling them to discuss the pros and cons
of any given situation helps them to better understand the benefit. Arguing,
civilly discussing what you’re thinking, is a key ingredient to successfully
processing new information.

Most criticism
focuses short term. I once found myself in an argument with a large,
aggressive lawyer after he belittled all the members of a writers’ group. I
believe, to this day, he just wanted everyone to tell him he was right. The
argument snapped off abruptly when I said, “Even if you are God’s gift to
writing, you’re not always going to be around to tell everyone how to do it!
Show us your thought process!”

Today an author was discussing how members of his
workshop told him not to say, “He made a disgusted face,” but to describe it.
His point was much more about the emphasis people put on showing over telling
than the actual example, however someone asked him, “Why don’t you just say,
‘He scowled’?”

If you have ever written anything remotely long, you
probably understand why these kinds of statements are short term and possibly
overly simplified.

Do you know how many times you can use the words, “He
scowled,” in just one book? Let alone over an entire career?

Then there’s the other problem of “scowl” being only one
portion of conveying disgust. In certain contexts, an audience member might
think that he was angry, confused, or even jealous. A big epiphany for me was
when I heard the phrase, “Don’t use a twenty-five cent word when a one cent one
would do,” and realized the emphasis is on “would do.” It doesn’t necessarily
mean that the smallest word (or phrasing) to correctly convey something is
actually a small word.

I suppose the bigger issue is this “fixing the trees
without seeing the forest,” mentality. As a writer, you’re constantly stepping
away from the project and then walking closer, all the while having people
shout at you their perspectives and angles. A writer might be told something is “wrong,” and when he goes over to
double check, he’s trying to understand where the critic was standing, what the
critique meant by “wrong,” how to fix it, how the entire big picture looks when
he makes a change, and if it needs fixing at all. It’s even possible that
the flaws of the trees were what made the forest so beautiful. Meanwhile,
someone else strolls along and sees the author fixated on this one piece of
damage. He thinks, “Just cut it down!” not realizing of course that the writer
is still going to have to deal with a multitude of other trees and comments,
and he can’t just cut them all down, especially when their absence could
negatively impact the entire wood.

You can’t just
delete something every time someone complains about it, or you’d have nothing
left.

When you see an author obsessing over a little thing, the
most useful action is to acknowledge that obsession isn’t just foolishness.
Sometimes rehashing a conflict in a critique is a means to understand it.
Sometimes the problem and solution are much bigger and more complicated than
strictly about that one specific word. Maybe that word is a symptom? Maybe that
complaint comes up again and again? Maybe the writer’s perspective is conflicting
with what the critic claims and he’s not sure if it’s ego, different tastes, or
the critic being controlling?

Whenever someone comes to you with a problem, they’ve
probably already thought of the simplest answer. For whatever reason, they rejected
it, and even if their rationale was flawed, dismissing them flat out isn’t
going to solve anything. Start by understanding where they’re coming from,
figuring out why they care, what the actual details are, and then explain your
own perspective and thought processes, make arguments for your case, and always
remember that if they’re freaking out about something so seemingly small, it’s
probably not about just that.

If you liked this post, want to support, contact, stalk, or argue with me, please consider...